Open Skies
by fiesa
Summary: It's not yet summer, but it soon will be. TwoShot- Kiki, Mitsuhide. Twenty words – twenty drabbles.
1. Part I Twenty-One Summers

**Open Skies**

_Summary: It's not yet summer, but it soon will be. TwoShot- Kiki, Mitsuhide. Twenty words – twenty drabbles._

_Warning: Vignettes. Undefined length, alternating viewpoints. Kiki and Mitsuhide at various stages of their relationship. No fixed chronology. Posted in two parts. _

_Set: Story-unrelated. May hint at chapters here and there._

_Disclaimer: Standards apply._

* * *

**Part I **

_i. Fairytales_

Kiki hasn't yet been able to define it, but she's working on it.

She cannot say when it started, really, that she looked at her partner and thought _he could make me fall for him. _Maybe it was on the training field, with only her father and Prince Zen as witnesses, when he came to her aid and offered her his strength. He didn't even bat an eyelash when Hisame started badmouthing him right away, with the cruel and thoughtless arrogance nobility cultivated. Maybe it was because his face was so unyielding, the gaze in his eyes so steadfast and bare of any doubts. Maybe, though, it was later, maybe sometime during the first assignment Zen send them both on. Maybe when he tried so desperately to talk her out of offering up herself as bait to find Shirayuki's abductors, or when he came to her rescue, later, in the pirates' cave, his face a thunderous cloud of anger in the face of her being hurt. Maybe it was one late evening at a fire place, somewhere in a hostel along the path to Wistal, with Kiki's wet hair drying slowly and Mitsuhide smiling and saying he'd probably marry someone who cared for Zen as much as he did. Maybe it was when he accidentally came into contact with that potion that made him so stiff and unfamiliar and, at the same time, showing her a completely different side of the man she had thought she had known completely. Or when he was so obviously hurt by her secret and the things she had kept from him but still willingly gave up their sparring match, when he chose to protect her future over his own pride and hurt. She has thought about it so often she can see all the little pieces, the tiny puzzles, come together, and yet she cannot pinpoint a moment.

She does not know where. Clarines, Tanburn, Lyrias. Her journeys with Zen and Mitsuhide have blurred into a tapestry of colors, sounds, voices and faces. She remembers a small stone house on the top of a cliff over the raging ocean, a royal mansion at the border of Tanburn, a secret entrance that leads from the Castle to Wistal. She remembers visits at the Knights' orders, travels on land and on sea, snow-capped mountains in the north and endless plains in the south. And in every place, every picture she carries in her heart, she can see glimpses of Mitsuhide. Because he was there with her, and he has left his impression on her memories in the same way he has left an impression in her heart.

There are a million little things that make him so devastatingly, painfully _Mitsuhide._ Remembering is like a myriad of ghostly touches – familiar, cool – on her skin. The way he frowns before he smiles, his brows rising into his hairline. The way his eyes are sharp and rarely miss something while he still pretends not to have seen anything as to not worry or frighten people. When he is deep in thought, his right hand unconsciously wraps around his sword-hilt. The way he decides for a security protocol for them every morning, because Zen's protection is what is his responsibility and he fulfills his task with the utmost care.

Mitsuhide is the only one who can stand his own when they are sparring.

He can smile in a thousand different ways. Kiki mapped out each one of his expressions and wants to remember each, one by one. He holds doors for everyone, women especially and other men included. His hair sticks up extremely messy when he's been in the rain, or when whatever he is working on is exhausting him to the point that he keeps dragging his hands through the two-colored, blond-brown strands. When he is tired he gets silent, when he is angry his voice lowers fractionally until it is a low, threatening hiss. When he is happy, there is a light shining in his eyes, and it is enough-

Kiki should probably be afraid of how well she knows him. And still. In the grand scheme of things the questions for the when, the how and the why pale, fade away until there is nothing left but herself, shivering under the cool scrutiny of her own analytic mind.

_You know, you can rely on us. On me. I'll always be there. _

Kiki chooses to believe, just this one time: believe in her Prince and her Knight and in the fairytale they give her.

* * *

_ii. Rivals_

"You're really an indisputable moron, Mitsuhide."

Zen is laughing so hard he's doubling over, holding his stomach, and Mitsuhide is mortified.

But, seen from close up – when he _really_ looks at her and not just _looks_ at her – it is clear that Kiki is a woman. How Mitsuhide could ever have mistaken her for a man is beyond him.

(It is not completely off the mark, though. She was wearing the shapeless traveling cloak that concealed her stature and her silver hair was short and close-cropped. She carried a sword at her side. Kiki is small, and petite, and her face shows little to no expression. So, at first glance, he had looked at her and had seen a fellow knight. A man.)

But she's good with the sword. She's strong, albeit not as strong as him, and she's incredibly _fast._ Mitsuhide measures the worth of people not only by their strength and ability, though, but also by their character. And Kiki is a good, dependable, and, most important of all: a loyal person.

She's also Zen's knight, and sometimes Mitsuhide feels jealous.

"Get some rest," Zen says and reaches for the next bundle of scrolls without bothering to look at him. "Send Kiki inside, will you?"

And Mitsuhide is dismissed, just like that.

_I was here first_, he wants to say. _I know him longest. He trusts me most. _

(It is irrational. He approved of her, after all, otherwise Zen wouldn't have made her his second aide. Still. There is something in Kiki's eyes that makes him feel powerless, on times, and she is so efficient and strong and excellent in everything she does that sometimes Mitsuhide thinks Zen doesn't really need him when he has Kiki.)

It is childish, and stupid, and he does not like this jealous streak of his at all. He would rip it out of him with his own hands, if he only could.

"I will fight a chosen champion of yours, Prince Zen."

And their gazes lock, and Kiki takes a step back. "You're a better match for him," she says, and she may or may not be right.

Fact is, she could probably take on every challenge Mitsuhide could. Kiki is everything a knight should be. She is strong, and fast, and she likes the fight. She can be ruthless, she is compassionate, she is loyal and she loves her liege lord. She can question orders and can use her own authority to give orders, if necessary. She is devoted. She is dedicated, sharp and intelligent, able to make split-second decisions, she has a good intuition and would give everything to save her lord. There is nothing in her that Mitsuhide dislikes. She also never made a move to bring herself closer to Zen, to push Mitsuhide aside, and he knows she would not in an eternity try to replace him. She is the best sparring partner he could wish for, a good friend, a good companion, an amazing fighter and the best partner he could ever wish for. And the moment he admits they are partners, the more impossible it becomes to see her as a rival. They work together. It is simple as that.

"Zen trusts you." Shirayuki's hair dances in the wind.

"He trusts Mitsuhide more," Kiki says and a brightness lights up in her eyes. And Mitsuhide cannot help his blushing.

"He trusts both of us equally."

Kiki smiles, gracefully. The message is received. Mitsuhide thinks that he is childish, and stupid, and that he has absolutely no reason to be jealous of Kiki. But he realized that, and don't the people say that realization is the first step towards betterment? Zen would never favor one of them above the other. And Kiki knows, and she knows Mitsuhide knows, and she knows he knows she knows. But she also understands him, and she accepts it.

For that, he loves her.

* * *

_iii. Knights_

Mitsuhide is old-fashioned.

Kiki can see it in the way he greets the ladies-in-waiting and the Lord's wives and daughters. The awkwardly blushing boy from the past has seemingly grown into adulthood, but the manners and politeness that always was in his character hasn't left him. He bows his head respectfully in front of the Ladies and nods politely at the maids. He smiles – when does he not smile – at the Princesses and their entourage. He holds his step to let them pass and offers a hand when they embark from the coaches they have traveled in. He has a polite greeting for even the sourest old hag and a honest smile for the ones that offer him a greeting in answer. He is ready to assist anyone who comes seeking his assistance, and even to those who don't. He fights like a storm, fast, lethal and determined. He's a knight in every aspect that matters and although he has accepted her as his partner and equal wholeheartedly, sometimes Kiki can see his instincts fight his mind.

She doesn't need a shield.

Kiki doesn't need someone to guard her and protect her. She doesn't need a knight in shining armor who rides to her rescue from dragons and witches and towers. She can fight for herself, she can care for herself and speak for herself, and she is proud of it. She doesn't need Mitsuhide to engage the random guys they meet on journeys, the ones that are too drunk to realize there is a reason she is carrying a sword and travelling in the company of sword-wielding knights. She doesn't need him to duel for her honor, or to protect her from the sight of the dead body of a poor man that is found mutilated on the side of the road. She doesn't need him to try to keep the horrors and the ugly sides of the world from her, because she can deal with it when she has to. She might not be a man, but she is strong.

What Kiki needs Mitsuhide to be is her partner.

Someone who has her back when she is in a fight, someone she can trust to watch out for her when it comes to it. Someone who knows exactly in which direction she will move in order to cover the other side. Someone who she can communicate with wordlessly, who knows what she is thinking and can adapt his thinking to her. Someone to whose thinking she can adapt, too. Someone who laughs with her and is silent when she doesn't feel like talking. Someone she can trust, with her entire soul and her entire mind, and whom she wants by her side for the rest of her life.

Mitsuhide is her other half, in many ways that can be explained and for many more inexplicable reasons.

* * *

_iv. Sword_

"It's so like you," Kiki mumbles as her hand caresses the sheath of his sword.

Mitsuhide stares. She came to pick him up in his room and she's not later or earlier than usual. She's dressed as usual, with her now-short hair falling unto her shoulders. Her sword hangs by her side and she entered his room as usual, and Mitsuhide is in the process of belting on his sword belt when she enters.

Kiki's hand carefully slides down the worn leather sheath with its markings and its faded, red velvet cord and his first thought is that this would be her, touching other people's stuff when she would never let anyone touch her own sword – except for him, perhaps. And despite the fact that this is his _sword_, his weapon, the one thing that has shed all the blood that sticks to his hands that sometimes makes him wake up drenched in sweat – despite everything, the gesture feels incredibly intimate. As if she was touching _him_. Mitsuhide watches her hand make its way down and up again and for some reason, his breath catches in his throat.

Sunlight falls through the high, open windows. Kiki's hair is molten crystal.

Then she smiles, and takes a few steps back, and Mitsuhide fights the blush that is creeping up his throat and steps forward to take his weapon. He holds the door for her and waits until she has left his room.

When she passes him, he catches the scent of her soap.

* * *

_v. Castle of Glass_

Her memories are a castle with see-through walls and floors and ceilings.

From every corner of it, Kiki can see the moments of her life fly by. Full of color and without, silent and loud, sad and happy and tense and desperate and glorious. Of course, the rooms are dedicated to certain times in her life. Her mother lives in a room just off the main corridor, in a sunlit, warm salon that holds Kiki's earliest memories of her parents. In it, the now-deceased Lady of the Seiran House sits in the red armchair, sometimes reading, sometimes stitching and sometimes idle-handed but rocking a small girl in her arms softly. Her voice fills the room: warm, silent or strong, or all at the same time. Her laughter dances through the air. Sometimes she moves – cooking, playing hide-and-seek, sometimes she stands at the window stock-still and Kiki knows she is waiting for her husband to return. In her memories, her mother is very alive, and will always remain that way.

Other rooms are dedicated to her education. There is a library filled with books, and filled with different tutors and sword-masters and stable-boys. The latter of them always appear a bit out of place in the beautiful hall filled with shelves with books, but that way she gets to remember them and their lessons even more clearly.

Her father is in his study. In this room, she keeps the memories of failures. The Lord of the Seiran House is nothing but strict and he wants his daughter to succeed him. From her early childhood on Kiki has learned to be the person her position requires. Her father always expected her very best of her and on the road she has made many mistakes. They are cataloged away here, as well, but there also are the times when he praised her, or smiled at her and told her he was proud. The time when he refused to continue business with a wealthy partner because the man had felt insulted by Kiki and her father had stood up for her. When it comes down to it Kiki knows her father is strict, and she will never be able to please him completely and entirely. But he loves her, and that is all that matters.

So many people. Twenty-one summers.

Zen. Zen and Obi and Shirayuki, and Ryu, and even the Head Pharmacist and the scientists from Lyrias. Prince Izana. Five years in the Castle and she has accumulated enough memories to fill various rooms and even a whole floor. It's only one of the things that makes her think that what they have is special, so special she does not dare to put it into words. Kiki never was the person to talk much but here, she does not even dare to _think_ that this is something precious. Her relationship to these precious, precious people for whom she would go to the ends of the world to protect them. Kiki became an aide to Prince Zen because she thought she had found the only two people on earth whom she would allow to share her burden with her. Now she realizes there are even more. (She's not sure whether she should count Obi in, because he's annoying and constantly nagging and he sees far too much, but she's more comfortable with him now than she was in the past and maybe – well.)

Oh, and Mitsuhide.

Mitsuhide is everywhere, wherever she looks. She can see his kind smile and his embarrassed expression and his sheepish grin and she likes them all so much she feels like crying over them. He is there with the mask of concentration he shows when he is completely immersed in his work and with the wary, guarded expression he has around strangers. There is the cool calculation he wears in training spars and the coldness when he faces their enemies protecting Zen and Shirayuki. There is so much of him – the warmth of his body next to hers after training, the sound of his laughter, the gestures his hands make in the air before him when he explains something. And Kiki wants to file it all away – every single detail, every sound, every bit of him – put it away safely, keep it in her memory and take it out and look at it whenever she wants to. It feels like she is keeping little pieces of Mitsuhide and for some selfish, illogical reason she does not want to share. Those bits and pieces have expanded until they filled not only her memory castle but her heart and her soul, as well, and it is difficult to distinguish herself from him nowadays.

And while she is not sure what exactly it means – despite from the fact that she has completely, utterly given him her heart – she thinks there could be worse ways to live.

Her mother once told her that a princess couldn't live in a castle of glass her entire life. Kiki knows she has to step out of hers one day or another, and maybe telling Zen was a start. What remains is telling Mitsuhide, this stupid, wonderful, imperfect and amazing person that is her partner in so many unbelievable aspects. For some undefinable reason, she is not afraid. Mitsuhide is see-through, transparent like glass. She can see he cares for her. So this will be it, sometime in the future.

But until then – Zen.

* * *

_vi. Longest Night_

Sometimes, fear creep up on a person unsuspected and suddenly. Sometimes, fear is a well-known enemy, almost as familiar as any friend. The danger lies in the fact that nothing can be done to stop it.

Because Mitsuhide is a good knight. He's a brilliant fighter and a good strategist. He can evaluate tricky situations quickly, can make level-headed decisions under duress and can calculate the best outcome of many unfavorable outcomes. Mitsuhide can fight thugs, kidnappers, pirates, mercenaries, traitors, rebels, assassins and shinobi, he can protect Zen from bodily harm and from overworking himself, can make him sleep and can wake him, he can make him eat and remind him of his duties and keep him from gossip and take his mind off his work by sparring with him. Mitsuhide is strong, capable and a good knight.

But he cannot protect Zen from illness.

The Second Prince has been trained to withstand poisoning. He also has a Castle Pharmacy with very capable pharmacists and the best ingredients and medicines a person can get for his money. But sometimes, _sometimes_, even Prince Zen Wistalia of Clarines falls prey to a sickness. And sometimes - crucial, painful times - there is nothing that can be done except for waiting for the fever to break.

The Head Pharmacist has come and gone, leaving the scent of peppermint and medicinal alcohol behind. She has personally sat at Zen's bed for the last eight hours until Kiki sent her away, promising to notify her at the slightest change in the Prince's condition. And Mitsuhide is insanely grateful that she also is the one who sends sniffling, doting maids away and makes servants get fresh, cold water for the cooling wraps and requests a cold meal for them from the kitchen because he cannot concentrate on _anything_ besides Zen right now.

The room is quiet except for Zen's labored breathing and the soft rustling of cloth when Kiki moves. Mitsuhide does not know how long he has sat here that way. The only thing he focuses on is the restlessly-moving figure on the bed – Zen looks so small when he's ill, so much like the young boy he is and not like the Prince – and has counted his breaths. Sometimes, they hitch, and every time it happens Mitsuhide stops breathing and starts counting. It seems to take an eternity until Zen draws in a long, rattling breath again and continues on and every time Mitsuhide's shoulders fall in immeasurable relief. The illness is serious, he knows that much, but he also knows Zen is young and strong and a fighter. Still, there always is the possibility _of_ and he does not even want to think-

_(Because it never was as bad as this before.)_

Even the Head Pharmacist had been worried. Mitsuhide closes his eyes and concentrates on Zen's breathing and forgets the world around him.

_One. Two. Three..._

It is a long night.

He must have fallen asleep for a short period of time. He opens his eyes again at the soft sound of the curtains of the window on the other side of the bed being drawn, and from the outside a pale moon shines into the room. He needs a second until he realizes the figure standing outlined against the window is Kiki. Of course it would be her because Mitsuhide prides himself in not letting his guard down. When she sees he's awake, she joins him at Zen's side: Mitsuhide in his chair, Kiki on the window seat. Together, they listen to the silence of the room and to Zen: the breath he draws is still rattling and labored, and his body is still burning. But he seems calmer now, his face more relaxed than ever since the sickness confined him to bed, and Mitsuhide feels a pang of shock. He feels Zen's forehead – hot, but not glowing – and whirls around to Kiki who has followed with a frown. She touches Zen's head now, too, and something spreads over her face Mitsuhide only slowly recognizes as the relief than he allows himself only now then, too.

Wordlessly, Kiki looks at him and Mitsuhide stumbles back, drops onto the window seat heavily and buries his face in his hands. The glass of the window is cool in his back. He more feels than hears Kiki settle onto the small bench next to him. It is barely wide enough for two grown people but she always was slender. Her side presses into his in a way that is both comforting and seemingly desperate for reassurance. And isn't it strange how much two people can share when connected to another human being? Mitsuhide can feel her shoulders tremble and knows Kiki is as relieved as he is, and that she is just as scared of losing Zen as he is.

They just sit there, her shoulder touching his, and stare into the darkness.

Zen's breath evens out and he sleeps soundly, and they keep watch over him.

* * *

_vii. Dowry_

Sometimes, she wonders.

Kiki is the only daughter of the Seiran House, the heiress of her age-old lineage. She has been brought up with the wealth and power that stands behind the name of her family. She has lived in a castle, has had her own teachers, her own pets and everything she could wish for. Apparently her childhood hadn't spoiled her, since she wasn't as ignorant and arrogant as she had experienced many girls of her status to be. But despite her character, her strength and her loyalty to Zen there still were worlds that divided them - her and Mitsuhide.

She does not care.

Still, somehow, Kiki doesn't think Mitsuhide will think nothing of it. She can almost hear him: sixth son of a family with six boys and two girls. The youngest son who has no claim whatsoever to title, land or even money and who joined the Knights out of necessity and stayed because of loyalty. She can see his face: he, who has nothing but the name and the position he made for himself, would hate to ask for her hand in marriage, seeing as he has nothing to offer.

"I cannot give you anything."

(Kiki, at heart, is not romantic, only realistic.)

"I don't care."

Kiki has enough estate for the two of them, and enough money and title and power. Things like those are not what she wants from Mitsuhide. She doesn't even need his life, because it already belongs to Zen and she would never take it away from him. There is something else, something so much more precious than wealth and power that she wishes for him to give to her: his sword and his heart.

Incidentally, those are the only two things Mitsuhide has to give, and can give away freely.

* * *

_viii. Tangle_

Born into a family of five elder brothers, two elder sisters and an extended net of cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents, Mitsuhide cannot remember a day when he was by himself.

There always is someone there to play with him or to tease him – and that they do well, tease him, because that is what elder brothers do – but he also is _beloved_. He might not have known the word as a child, but he feels as much. His mother is mild and kind and his father is strict and humorous. Sometimes Mitsuhide thinks that he has a fairytale childhood, that he is been really, really lucky to be born with all those people who care for him that much. Because of that, he never minds the fact that he is the sixth son, the one who won't inherit anything: in fact, there isn't much to inherit to begin with. And it is fine. He can live with that.

The day Mitsuhide leaves his home he feels very alone.

He finds a new home at the Castle, with all the knights and knights-in-training. And he becomes well-known quickly, liked for his easygoing nature, his fast humor and his hard work. He makes a home for himself. Of course, not everybody likes him, but most like him well enough. And that is fine with him.

_Mitsuhide. On the path you will begin today we can only give you our advice, and our love. Remember this: human beings are not meant to be alone. Be kind and be wary. Be patient and know when to act. And when the time comes you think you can give away your whole self, do it without reservations. But choose wisely. _

Still, as much as people drift towards other people, they still remain individual entities. It's not difficult to understand. It goes like this: Mitsuhide is Zen's aide and sworn knight, and will be so until he dies or Zen sends him away. He is Zen's friend, too, and sometimes a mentor-figure, and sometimes someone the Second Prince can vent his anger on or his loneliness. _(Human beings are not meant…) _But Mitsuhide will never be Zen, and Zen will never be Mitsuhide. It is a simple concept. No human can just stop being who he is, and the boundaries are always clear.

But not with Kiki.

At one point Kiki got tangled into him, and he isn't sure what it means for the two of them. They're always together. She picks him up in his room at morning, or he picks her up, depending on who has guarded Zen in the last shift of the night watch. They have breakfast with Zen, they help him with his work, they have a quick lunch. The afternoons are more work, or sparring, and sometimes trips to the town or other castles, or just walks when Zen and Shirayuki manage to get a bit of time off their duties to spend it together. Sometimes formal events in the evening, balls, dinners, the like, and Mitsuhide and Kiki are always together. They train together, they work together, they guard Zen together, and _it shouldn't be possible_ but it is and it makes him wonder. Because Mitsuhide never particularly longs for time for himself, except, sometimes, when he has a reason to want to be alone.

But he isn't sure whether it is the same for Kiki.

She's such a withdrawn character. She never seemed like she particularly cared for having someone beside her. Kiki doesn't need people like Mitsuhide needs them, to talk to them and make them laugh and laugh with them, or to just watch them going on in their daily work. Kiki doesn't need other people to define herself. So what if she gets tired of him one day?

… _Without reservation._

So Mitsuhide has reached the point when he looks at something and knows both his and Kiki's opinion regarding the subject. Or he sees something and can hear her reaction in his mind. He knows how she moves – _so gracefully, so incredibly beautiful_ – and knows where he needs to be to counter her attack. And he knows where to be when she needs him. It shouldn't be possible, but somehow it is. And he doesn't know how he is supposed to feel about it, or how Kiki feels about it. Or whether she even thinks they are having something special.

Mitsuhide can still hear his mother's voice.

_Humans are born in order to search for the one thing they cannot live without. _

He doesn't know about Kiki, but he thinks he might have found his reason.

* * *

_ix. Flower_

"What do you think would suit her?"

Kiki thinks that it is a beautiful day, that the sun is shining and the air is mild, and the wind that drifts up from the ocean smells like salt and sea and vastness. Kiki thinks that she now knows why Zen wanted to sneak out of the castle and why he specifically distracted Mitsuhide and asked her to come with him instead. Kiki thinks that Shirayuki loves all plants, even the ones that don't bloom or are poisonous or thorny or plain ugly, and that she would be happy with _whatever _Zen gives to her for Spring Equinox. Kiki thinks that it is an antiquated ritual, men giving women flowers for the time of the year day kisses night, but a nice one, nevertheless, and that she is the last person he should ask such obviously _womanly_ questions because, well, look at her. But Kiki also thinks she has been raised as a heiress to a great House and that she knows her way with flowers, their meanings and their arrangements, and that, therefore, Zen might have been right when he forced her to come with him. For once.

"I think you should go with local flowers," she therefore says. "Shirayuki probably often feels like an exotic specimen herself. She might like something beautiful but native."

Zen, standing in front of the well-visited flower market of Wistalia City, looks lost. On their way he had tried to defend his trip to town: he couldn't just take flowers from the Royal Gardens. It was boring and predictable and besides, as a Court Pharmacist, Shirayuki was in part responsible for the hothouses, as well. He couldn't just take something she saw every day-

It's sweet, really. Kiki smiles.

"Prince Zen," a flower lady finally spots him and Kiki would swear, these women have eyes like hawks, voices like doves and endurance like… Well, a lot of it. At first, Zen had made a half-hearted attempt to disguise himself but in the city itself and with Kiki trailing in his wake it was pretty clear who he was. "Are you looking for a bouquet for Spring Equinox? What can we humble flower women offer you that doesn't grow in your splendid Royal Gardens? Here, look at these beauties, their color matches your-" Your face, Kiki thinks. "And look, here…"

It takes Zen the better part of an hour to decide, and then a bit longer to detach himself from the very helpful women that had ambled over to watch the drama enfold. On their way back to the castle his face is still flushed but he holds the carefully wrapped flowers like he's won a war. In her eyes, he has.

"A good choice," Kiki says and thinks of the small, white flowers she saw that seemed so insignificant and plain next to the beautiful, exotic lilies one flower stand had sold. Usually, she isn't into flowers and stuff. But they had been tiny and white as snow, their scent sweet and natural. They are nothing even next to the beautiful but modest flowers Zen has chosen but somehow, she liked them. She wonders whether someone would be able to tell her the name. Shirayuki, perhaps.

Shirayuki's face glows when Zen presents her the gift. Zen blushes, as well. Kiki, Mitsuhide and Obi watch the young couple and even Obi refrains from making stupid comments for once. It is endearing. The air is cool and the night sky clear, and the moon illuminates the picture. When Kiki returns to her room later she finds a small bouquet on her vanity, along with a small card with a familiar handwriting. It doesn't mean anything special, she knows. Mitsuhide sees her as a friend. Still, the gesture makes her heart beat speed up and she smiles into the darkness softly. And how, exactly, did he know-

The scent of the small, white flowers follows her into her dreams.

* * *

_x. Sleep_

When he wakes up for the first time and sees Kiki's sleeping figure next to him it is the most normal thing in the world.

Her golden hair is tousled and messy and surrounds her face like a bright halo. She is buried under the blankets and completely relaxed, her breath coming in soft, even waves, her chest rising and sinking. And Mitsuhide thinks that the first thing that should have come to his mind are the events of the last night, Kiki's body flush against his and her hands in his hair but the first thing he thinks of is how incredibly, incredibly beautiful she is, and how he wants to wake up next to her just like that for the rest of his life. He has the distinct feeling Obi would frown at him and give some very wary, very much tell-tale sigh, and Zen might comment on his hopelessness and cheesiness. But he also knows Kiki would smirk at him; with her tiny, barely visible smile that just manages to lift the corners of her lips but that shines from her eyes with an intensity that warms his entire body. And that is all Mitsuhide needs.

Being able to watch her sleep like that is only one of the myriad of tiny things in their life together that make him smile.


	2. Part II Open Skies

**Part II**

_xi. Masks_

Kiki has often been scolded by her father before.

The head of the Seiran family seemed of the opinion that Kiki's expression was too cool and collected. The word _mask_ had fallen once or twice, but generally she didn't take her father too seriously in that regard. It wasn't as if Kiki was hiding behind her expressionless face. It was just that she did not know what face to make when talking to other people. Her mother had been the same, her aunts had told her. She'd never shown a wide range of expressions, and she had seldom smiled. But she had possessed a sense of humor that was unique, everyone said so. And when Rosalyn Seiran had laughed, the world had held its breath. As her daughter, nobody was surprised Kiki had inherited her mother's facial features, her vacant expression and her rare smile. But she also had her mother's laugh. _Smile, Katherine,_ her aunts used to tell her when she was young. _At least for your father. _Sometimes she had, but many times, she hadn't. _She's like a doll_, people had whispered. _Like she has no emotions. _The gossip hurt, but there was nothing she could do.

Masks.

Some people, Kiki knew, used masks to hide what they felt. They crafted on intricate expressions in order to bury anger, tears or loneliness, and sometimes kindness, too. Other people put on masks to display emotions they felt overly, or, sometimes, to display emotions they did not feel. Some people hid behind masks. No matter what it came down to, masks had always been used to deflect peoples' attention.

Mitsuhide was something else entirely.

Mitsuhide went and twisted around that term. He pulled everything out into the open, under the close scrutiny of the public eye, and he smiled while doing it. Mitsuhide didn't use a mask at all. Instead, he wore every emotion of his on his face. Sometimes, it was painful to watch:

Embarrassment when he didn't know what to do with his hands when ladies passed. Anger, when he was unable to protect Zen from the gossip and the evil that were human beings. Sadness at other peoples' sadness, pure joy at a sparring fight, fondness when watching Zen.

Watching Mitsuhide was like experiencing what it meant to be human. It stripped Kiki raw, left her defenseless in the face of his smile and shivering from the cold onslaught that was sometimes grief and in many more cases loneliness. Watching Mitsuhide meant feeling with him – his childish sides, his naïveté, his devotion and ever-present loyalty – and it meant getting to know him, too.

Kiki has gotten to know many people, but only with Mitsuhide she knows what he feels when she looks at him. Sometimes, not even that is necessary anymore.

* * *

_xii. Cataclysm_

"Mitsuhide."

"Hm?"

The midday sun is hot, almost unbearably so. In the shadow of the hallway, though, it is bearable. The ancient stones of the castle absorb much of the heat. The Wisteria, the blue climbing vines that gave their name to the Castle, are in their second bloom, hanging in thick bunches from the arcade of the open hallway. The heels of Kiki's boots echo back from the pillars that line the way.

"Where did Zen go?"

Mitsuhide, sitting in a niche of the peristyle facing the gardens, turns towards her.

"His Highness Izana called for him."

Kiki steps closer and leans onto the pillar next to him. Sun-streaks fall onto her silvery hair and dance in her eyes and she frowns. "You didn't go with him?"

"I was ordered to stay." On her face, Mitsuhide reads surprise and, to some extent, apprehension. She is right. A few years ago he would have gone nevertheless. "It's okay," he says, and smiles at her. "I can see them, there, you see?"

He waves at Kiki to come over and look from his point of view. His Highness Izana is taller than Zen, but both are blonde and broad-shouldered. They move like the siblings they are: towards each other, harmonizing, working together by opposing each other, contrasting and complementing. Their voices don't reach the archway but Mitsuhide has an eye on his liege lord, and that is what matters. (He also has Obi standing by in a closer distance, but Kiki probably knows that or guesses as much.)

Stepping back, Kiki sits down on the same window seat as Mitsuhide already sits on. He draws his knees a bit closer to himself to make room for her. It's not exactly wide, the space, but there is enough for the two of them.

"A few years ago you wouldn't have let him out of your sight." She says exactly what he thought just seconds ago, with a face so straight-forward and honest that Mitsuhide couldn't feel angry even if he wanted to. He feels the slight blush, though, that always seems so close when she's near.

"That's true. He's old enough to take care of himself when it comes to Lord Izana now, though."

Kiki smiles. "I guess." She leans forward, placing her elbows on her knees, and puts her head into her hands. "He's not the only one who has grown, huh?"

Mitsuhide smiles instead of an answer and looks over the garden, past the violet wisteria, towards the pavilion in which Zen and his Royal Brother and King are engrossed in a discussion.

"I think it's time," Kiki says, as if she was talking to herself. Listening with only half an ear, he hums a reply.

"I love you."

Mitsuhide freezes. Turns around, looks at her, and Kiki is wearing the tiny, beautiful smile he knows so well and sees so rarely. Her stormy eyes that reveal her mood every time unfailingly today are bluer than the flowers that frame her. Mitsuhide knows her face as he knows his – he has looked at her so often, studied her when he thought she wasn't noticing. Kiki is his best friend and partner, in everything that matters and much, much more. Figures that she would use a completely unpredictable moment to say such words with a completely straight face and a completely calm attitude, and expect him _not_ to fall off his seat.

"What?" He yelps, and the undignified sound makes him blush again and even harder than before.

"I love you." She repeats it like she is repeating Zen's travel itinerary for his next journey to Lyrias and the North. Like it is the most normal thing in the world. Like this doesn't even concern them, like this won't change anything…

Mitsuhide stares at her for a time that feels longer than eternity, his heart-beat loud in his ears. Kiki's smile widens as she answers his gaze. It is as if she already knows his answer, as if she has no problem telling him these words because she knows how he will reply. It is so much like her: no fear, no second thought. She puts everything, no matter the weight of the moment, out into the open without any regard for peoples' feeling of privacy, and awaits their reaction. So many times has he watched her do it with others – even laughed about their faces, once or twice – and now she's doing it with him.

Mitsuhide opens his mouth and wracks his brain for an answer. Something, anything, to not make him look like an idiot with the face of a fish on dry land. Nothing comes to his mind. He has-

Kiki smiles again, and he gives up.

"Sheesh." Mitsuhide buries his face in the crook of his arms. "You can't just blurt out such a thing!"

She chuckles, a beautiful sound, and he suddenly realizes how close they're actually sitting. To hell with it, he thinks and looks up, catches her eyes and holds her gaze. His hand cups her cheek – her skin is soft and warm – and Mitsuhide leans forward. Kiki smiles as he kisses her, as if she always knew it would lead to this. _They_ would lead to this.

He is falling into her.

Head first, endlessly, without any chance of catching (_saving_) himself. And he is not the least bit afraid.

The wisteria's sweet scent is overwhelming.

_We're still breathing the same air._

* * *

_xiii. Second Prince_

Kiki has no idea why Obi still does it. But the shinobi seems to find it downright amusing to challenge Mitsuhide to drinking contests, wanting to see who will be the first to surrender. Kiki has joined them once or twice – she has even won, despite her being a woman – but other times she has just sat by and watched. On most occasions it was acceptable, because Mitsuhide, despite everything, is the sort of person who stopped short of foolishness. Which meant he would drink but he would limit himself as soon as he realized he was getting too inebriated to fulfil his duties. If he had to get up early the next morning, he'd drink until he felt he couldn't drink more without impairing his loyalties, and then he stopped. So, rather than a drinking game, it was more a game of endurance: who would back out first.

It has been Mitsuhide's turn to give up this time, again, and Kiki loves him for always knowing how far he can go and for the fact that he doesn't let himself be pressured into more than he is willing to do. Obi disappears after emptying his last beer – he doesn't seem remotely different than usual, just opts to take the door instead of the window – and Kiki leans back and lets the noise and the voices of the pub wash over her. From the corner of her eyes she watches Mitsuhide.

There are many people in the bar tonight.

The capital is full of merchants and artists and guests, all looking forward to the summer festivities, and the foreigners are predominant in the pub, too. Kiki can hear the melodic accent of Tanburn in one corner, while three merchants are arguing over the price of Finis wine in the thick dialect of the North. Mitsuhide swirls the golden liquid in his glass and stares into the distance, and Kiki smiles to herself and takes a sip of her own drink. It is sweet and bitter, at the same time, just as she likes it.

She likes the peacefulness. She likes being there with Mitsuhide.

She likes the way back to the castle, when it is only the two of them and the stars blink in the sky like living beings. The path to the castle is illuminated by lanterns in regular distances but the night falls between those patches of light, shadows stretching out in all directions. The air is cool and fresh, air after rain, and summer is so close Kiki thinks she can feel it. She likes the way Mitsuhide's steps next to her are silent and regular, so familiar, and how he smiles when he catches her looking at him. Kiki has to avert her eyes because otherwise… Well.

"There were a few patrons talking about Zen," Mitsuhide breaks the silence. He's walking next to her, one hand on his sword, one hand hanging at his side loosely, and he's looking at the sky. "The merchants. From Syracyse, or close to it. They were saying that Clarines had a good ruler and that the ruler had a good advisor, and he referred to Zen directly."

It is the raw pride Kiki hears in his voice, the happiness of a man who does not begrudge his lord his fame and title, that makes her smile. He's so much like a parent when it comes to Zen, even though Mitsuhide is elder brother, role model and advisor all in one, as well.

"It made me wonder." Mitsuhide stops and looks at the stars, and his voice is thoughtful and curiously light. "I wonder, how long will he continue to need us?"

Zen Skye Wistalia, Second Prince of Clarines. Their liege lord and master.

"He won't cast us aside," Kiki says quietly. Who, she wonders, will be hurt more if there ever would be a reason to separate them? Zen or Mitsuhide? Because she refuses for even one second to think that Zen doesn't love Mitsuhide with the same ferocity and devotion that Mitsuhide has for his Prince.

"Zen?" Mitsuhide laughs. "No, of course he won't." Smiling, he shakes his head. "Sorry. It's the liquor speaking. I have no idea why I still let Obi challenge me. All of us know the outcome of those games."

"My words exactly." Kiki answers drily and looks at the sky, as well. She can see the Summer Crown, right over the Phoenix. The night is clear as crystal, and Mitsuhide is besides her.

"Come on." Mitsuhide turns towards her, his smile warm and soft, and extends a hand. "Let's get back."

And because it is night, because Kiki feels the warmth of the alcohol and the smile on her face, because Zen will never cast them aside and Kiki knows Mitsuhide won't ever stop protecting him, because she can see love and kindness in his eyes like her own reflection and she can feel her heart beat steady and alive in her chest, she takes his hand.

Because it is Mitsuhide, they stay that way until they reach the Castle's gates.

* * *

_xiv. Touch_

She reacts.

He can see it clearly, the subtle shift of her shoulders, the ghost of something that crosses her face. Otherwise Kiki stands motionless, her hand on her sword, and stares towards the Prince they have sworn to protect and his guests. Reflections of the candle light dance on her face. Mitsuhide likes how the black and red of their uniforms contrasts with her silver hair and makes her light-grey eyes seem even greyer.

Their shoulders brush again, just barely, as Mitsuhide steps back again from having handed Zen three scrolls. It's not even a real touch – just cloth against cloth – and still Kiki shivers. Like she remembered something. A word, a touch, or maybe all at once.

She doesn't blush, but she doesn't need to. To Mitsuhide, it is obvious.

He smiles, and takes up his position again.

* * *

_xv. Silence_

"You really don't talk much, do you."

Hisame Lugis always had something that made Kiki feel ambivalent towards him. He was a good swordsman, a capable Guard's Captain and – as far as she could tell – a dedicated son and heir to his family. One fact that spoke for him had been his relentless pursuit of her, and his blunt honesty when it came to the question why. Of course he also was arrogant, the type of noble heir Kiki could not care less for. The type of man that believed he was a gift to the world, not the other way round, and that expected everyone to take him that way. His smile felt like needles, sometimes, because he knew how to use it to his advantage. It was different than Shirayuki's bright, sunny and honest smile, or Zen's self-deprecating smirk that contained so much humor. It was very different from Mitsuhide's embarrassed or amused expressions. Hisame excluded self-assurance while other people simply seemed…

_Kind. _

Kiki lifted her hand to brush away a strand of hair that had not fallen from the tight confines of her intricate braid and shifted from one foot to the other. The weight of the jeweled pins used to put up her short, silver tresses was unfamiliar, pressing down on her spine. The phantom weight of the missing sword at her side was a gaping absence.

"I don't mind, actually. It's a nice change when women don't blabber away the whole day. Sometimes I wonder how they can stand to be around themselves. Chitter-chatter all the time."

The fact was: he didn't even mean to be especially demeaning, or even insulting. He just spoke his mind. But Hisame never had learned the power that a simple word could carry, sheltered, arrogant kid he had been. Kiki wasn't even hurt by his words. She just didn't like this aspect of carelessness of his character very much.

"And I have to say, this dress fits you very well. The color suits you."

"Thank you," Kiki said, lowering her head a fraction. Hisame laughed.

"So polite. And yet you stood up to me and to your family a few years ago. If I didn't know you better, I wouldn't believe I actually fought you before, and lost."

She didn't say anything to that. Below the small balcony they were standing on, the crowd of people dancing and chatting moved like an ocean made of all colors under the sun.

"Ah." Hisame fixed his eyes on something in her back. "I guess my time with you has been regrettably cut short. It was a pleasure conversing with you, Lady Katherine. Knight Lowen. I must excuse myself. Please extend the pleasure of your presence to Lady Katherine."

He greeted the newcomer like a Captain of the Guard greets a knight, or like a Lord greets a commoner. Kiki wasn't quite sure which it was, but she could feel her eyes narrow. It was one thing for Hisame to make fun of her, but-

"Captain." Mitsuhide's voice was calm and courteous. Kiki saw him smile from the corners of her eyes: polite, unreadable.

She didn't turn around to watch Hisame leave. Instead, she waited, and then she felt Mitsuhide step closer until he was leaning on the banister of the balcony, right next to her. She knew what he was wearing: the knights' gala uniform, black and navy blue and bright red, Zen's golden sigil on the lapel, his sword – so plain compared to Hisame's – at his side. A year ago and she would have worn the same uniform, would have attended this function for the same reason that Mitsuhide was here. Kiki knew how he looked like and still she turned her head to look at him: his hair was combed back. He looked very alien, and handsome, and so very, very familiar.

"That guy never changes." Mitsuhide sighed, leaning onto the banister, and turned to look at her. "Did he try anything inappropriate?" Something in his eyes belied his light tone.

"No," Kiki said and stopped herself from reaching out for him.

"Good." He didn't go into detail.

She was used to having to look up just a tiniest bit to see his face. Now she had to look down and it was different, so very, very different despite the fact that she knew his face as well as she knew her own reflection: brown eyes, blond-brown hair, a face full of laughter and worry lines. His lips twitched slightly when she didn't say anything else, but he didn't, either.

For a while, she just looked at him. Then Mitsuhide turned around again, towards the crowd below.

"You are beautiful in this dress," he said, lightly, and Kiki didn't know what to answer. Mitsuhide didn't expect her to, probably.

Together, they watched the crowd mill in the ball room, and for the second time in her life Kiki felt like being Lady Katherine wasn't all that bad.

* * *

_xvi. Dance_

It is not like he dislikes them.

Somewhere along the way Mitsuhide has lost count of the many balls, dinners and diplomatic functions he has taken past in since he became Zen's knight. It is a part of the Second Prince's life: the long-winded talks, the many discussions, the gleaming ball room with its soft lights and soft music and its people, people and people. He likes to think of it as a side of the Royal Palace that cannot be separated from the aspect of authority. People of noble birth have been brought up with it. It is Zen's sense of duty, and Kiki's loyalty to her father's house. Mitsuhide's family never moved in the same circles.

_(Zen is loyal to Clarines and the First Prince and the Queen and the Nobles and the people of his country. Kiki is loyal to her father, to the Seiran family and to her Prince. Mitsuhide is loyal to Zen and Zen only, and, as it is, he thinks it is enough.)_

"Kiki looks like she wouldn't mind if you ask her to dance."

Obi still looks a bit strange. In Mitsuhide's mind he will always wear his shinobi gear, possibly including the headband, and dark greys and light blacks suit him better than the navy blue and bright red of the gala uniforms. The ninja is blinking across the large hall, his hair even combed for once, and when he turns to Mitsuhide halfway he has the conspiratorial grin on his face Mitsuhide has learned to identify and dread.

He follows Obi's gaze: on the other side, Kiki seems to be engrossed in a conversation with someone Mitsuhide does not know. Today, she is in a dress of the color of the ocean, simple and elegant, and her hair wraps around her head in an intricate braid.

"I don't think so."

"Huh?" Obi seems surprised that he has answered at all, or perhaps he is surprised at Mitsuhide's lack of stuttering and blushing. His head swivels: to him, then to Kiki on the other side of the hall, back to him. "What do you mean? Kiki does not want to dance or you can't? It's not like the Master will care, or anyone here."

Mitsuhide just smiles. Some things are only between the two of them, Kiki and him. Obi seems to realize that much, because he huffs and puffs and drops the topic.

"Fine. Have it your way. I still think you should ask her to dance."

Smiling, he leans back and listens to the soft music that dances in the air, all the while watching Zen move through the hall and greet the guests.

"It is over," Kiki sighs, hours later, and yanks out the pins that have held her hair up. Mitsuhide is almost sorry to watch it tumble down onto her shoulders again, free of the fragile, beautiful pins and combs. The hallway to the part of the Palace that belongs to the Second Prince is lit by lanterns and completely silent. Zen already retired for the night, Obi slinked away with his perpetual grin and Shirayuki probably went to sleep early since she has the next day's morning shift. It is only them, Kiki and Mitsuhide, and the guards at the entrance to the Palace wing. The darkness carries sound, but Mitsuhide can hear nothing but their steps and the soft rustling of Kiki's dress.

"Are you tired?"

"Only exhausted." She drops a pin and bends down to pick it up. Mitsuhide is faster, he hands her the fragile, butterfly-shaped piece and smiles. "You should get to bed, then."

"No." She stops in the middle of the hallway. "Spar with me."

He should be surprised. But honestly, Mitsuhide has known Kiki for long enough to not even be surprised by his lack of surprise. He smiles.

"You're not training in that dress, I hope."

A smile flickers over her features, lights up her eyes. "Give me five minutes."

Kiki is Kiki whether she wears dresses or her training gear. Mitsuhide does not distinguish between Lady Katherine Seiran or Kiki, his partner. He knows her polite smile, her frown, her delicate, impassive expression. He also knows her face when it is a mask of concentration, when she smiles grimly or laughs with the adrenaline rush of a fight. She is beautiful no matter whether she wears a gown or training armor.

The training hall is their world, and their swords are their voices. Under the light of the moon and the stars, far from candle-lit halls, scented air and string quartet, they dance.

* * *

_xvii. Separation_

When she wakes up, the atmosphere of the room is instantly familiar to her.

The scent is familiar. The windows must be open, because the soft breath of wind hangs in the air, cool on her face. Even with closed eyes, Kiki knows that Mitsuhide is there. She can feel his presence on the other side of the room, can hear the rustling of papers and the soft sigh of the wooden bench as he shifts his weight. She can imagine him: sitting on the window seat, his brow furrowed as he reads through some papers thoroughly, fully concentrated on the task at hand. And Kiki wants to open her eyes and see him there, his presence in her room having become something familiar and beloved, wants to look at him and see his smile when he realizes she is watching him. Instead, Kiki cannot move.

She cannot open her eyes. She cannot move her limbs. She can feel them, heavy and distant, but there is no response when she strains everything she has in order to call forth a reaction. Kiki is caught in a weightless limbo, somewhere between waking and sleeping. And she _cannot move. _

She cannot wake up. The thought is terrifying.

The last thing she remembers is the attack in the forest. She remembers the mercenaries that were, all of a sudden, everywhere, and both hers and Mitsuhide's desperate anger. Then the tunnel vision of fighting, Mitsuhide shouting at Zen to move, Zen stubbornly ignoring his knights and fighting next to them. The sight of more and more men coming at them. And then the sound of horses, orders given by the Captain of the Guard, pure relief. And then a tearing movement to her right. Suddenly Kiki was staring down at the sword that had slashed into her side. She didn't notice she had dropped her sword until it clattered to the ground next to her. Another motion – no pain, strangely, no pain – as her attacker tore back his weapon and lifted it again, she could see the sun gleam on the blade – and then a dozen arrows embedded themselves into him – and Mitsuhide's back suddenly was in front of her – and Zen was shouting – and Kiki realized she was kneeling, and there still was no pain. The only thing she saw was Mitsuhide's back and the blade of his sword that came down in a beautiful, silver arc and then Zen was shaking him, Mitsuhide, leave him, _Kiki_- and Mitsuhide turned around and their eyes locked. He was smeared with blood but he seemed not to have carried away any major injuries. Sighing in relief – somehow choking – Kiki relaxed, and that was when the world tilted and turned black.

And slowly, slowly and horribly, realization creeps up on her: she is alive, but she is not conscious. Except that she can hear everything, even sense, to some extent – but she cannot interact with her surroundings. It is the most terrifying revelation she can imagine. And. Mitsuhide is there, but she cannot talk to him. She knows he is close, but she cannot even extend her hand to touch him. It is worse than anything she could ever have imagined, this separation that is none because he is undeniably _there_ and yet is so present that sometimes she feels unable to breathe. She always thought she could live without other people close to her, and then she thought she would be fine as long as Mitsuhide was alive, even if they were separated. It was a lie, desperate and foolish.

The aching pain inside her heart is worse than anything.

Kiki's body wakes up three days later. Just like that. Her eyes flutter open – the sun dances on the white curtains, the air smells like fall – and Mitsuhide drops his scrolls, blinks disbelieving at her weak moan and, without regard for her injured side, hugs her so hard she almost fades into oblivion again due to the pain. He refuses to let go of her for several minutes and Kiki does not complain: despite the hurt in her side she clings to him with every ounce of strength her small body has left, refusing to let go. Desperately trying to fill the emptiness those few days have created – trying to push him into her own body, to melt him into her until only one mind and one heart and soul remain – and slowly, slowly, the gaping ache recedes.

_I wish I could have been born as Mitsuhide's heart. _

"Don't ever do that to me again," Mitsuhide whispers roughly and Kiki comes back to life.

* * *

_xviii. Warmth_

Spring comes late that year, makes Clarines wait until early May with days of cold wind and rain while cool mists creep up from the ocean. But when it comes it seems like the world is trying to show itself from its best side all at once: flowers and birds and people, alive and bursting with energy, and colors suddenly seem so much more vivid than they have before. It came too fast, in Mitsuhide's opinion. Spring and winter at the coast of Clarines have no end and no beginning. They just merge into each other, entwined like lovers, and snow is exchanged for sun, clouds for blue skies and winter grey for spring colors.

It still remains cool, though, west wind carrying the salty air towards the castle, and the sun is weak. It is cool on the ramparts of Castle Wistalia, and the naming flowers only yet show the promise of their future beauty.

"Here you are."

Zen's voice follows the soft crunching of footfall on stone. Mitsuhide knows his Lord's steps as well as he knows his own.

"I guess you found me."

"Ah." Zen sighs and leans onto the chest-high wall next to Mitsuhide. The stone is still cold, carrying the memory of long months of winter. "I admit, you had me this time."

Mitsuhide cannot help but chuckle. "I wasn't particularly trying to hide, you know."

Zen gives a non-committal grunt. "No, because hiding from yourself is just not your style."

The Second Prince looks a bit winded. Knowing him, he has taken the stairs to the small tower platform a tad too fast, just because he likes to run.

"Whatever you are talking about…" Mitsuhide's voice trails off. He knows there is something that is bugging him, something has been for quite some time. But he had thought he would have hidden it better, or, hopefully, that nobodz would have noticed. Especially since Zen was having enough work since His Highness Izana ascended the throne, and since Shirayuki still was in Lyrias. A few months already have passed, and Zen has born them admirably. Still, Mitsuhide can see the strain in his Prince's eyes when he turns at the sound of his name and realizes it is not the person he thought was calling him.

"Kiki." Zen does not turn to him, watches a few seagulls pass over the castle with their childlike cries. "You're thinking about the things Kiki said, and you cannot ask her about it."

"I'm really transparent, am I not?" Mitsuhide cards his hand through his hair, half embarrassed, half amused at himself and this Prince whom he can hide close to nothing from. "I can't help myself."

"Only to me." Zen sighs again, dropping his chin into his hands. His voice sounds a bit muffled. "Mitsuhide. Really, do you have not realized whom she had been talking of?"

There is an idea, a tiny spark of thought, that he has pushed back into the recesses of his mind. A name, a face, something he has forbidden himself to think about. It could be so simple, really, to just ask her. But he _can't. _And it is ridiculous, stupid and _impossible_ but he still finds himself wondering, just wondering…

"Kiki meant you, Mitsuhide."

Mitsuhide can't help but laugh. "Yeah, because that's possible."

Zen looks at him and does not smile. "I mean it."

"Nonsense." It is his turn to clap a hand to his face, he rubs his eyes with the hilt of his palm and tries to will away the sting of _something_ that works its way up his chest and into his throat. "We're partners, Kiki and I. You can't know-"

"She told me." Zen interrupts him, calm and steady. "She told me, and it's the truth."

Mitsuhide drops his hands, grabs the hilt of his sword to hold on to something steady in his world. "When?"

"At the marriage proposal meeting His Highness Izana arranged for me."

It has been close to six months since then.

"No." His knuckles are white where he grips his sword. Blindly, he stares out at the ocean, but he hears only the sound of blood in his own ears. "_No._" He doesn't even know what exactly he is denying.

"You are remarkably stupid," Zen sighs. "What is your problem? You know her. I know you like her. You're partners, you're good together. Why is it so impossible for you to think you could be happy and together with a person who cares for you? A person that actually is by your side and you can see every day?"

He does not quite manage to conceal the bitterness in his voice. Mitsuhide hates it. He wants to hug Zen and tell him he will see Shirayuki soon. He wants to apologize for his stupidity, and for the things that are going through his mind right now. But nothing comes to his mind.

"That was uncalled for," Zen says, and his smile is back. "I apologize. But really, Mitsuhide. Don't you love Kiki, too?"

Does he love Kiki? Does he love his partner, his fellow knight? This marvelous woman who stands her ground wherever she goes, this woman who has saved him countless times, not only in battle but on even ground, as well. This woman who has shown him that she trusts him although she used to trust nobody, who has worked side by side with him for almost six years now. This amazing, amazing woman he sees every day, and who will leave, one day, to return to her home where she will take up her father's heritage and name and be Lady Katherine Seiran, not his Kiki anymore. Does he love her? What is it what he feels, this thing that makes him want to hold her and never let go? Possessiveness? Selfishness? Friendship? Is it the same, hearing it from Zen's lips, as walking up to her and asking her to repeat what he just heard? Does he want to hear it? Isn't he just selfish, stupid, stubborn and so incredibly afraid to love beyond what he could lose when it comes to her?

He thinks of the warmth in her eyes.

When he doesn't say anything Zen sighs again, but he has not lost the softness in his eyes. "I picked her for you, Mitsuhide. I knew right when I saw her that it had to be her. And I know you. Come to your senses."

Mitsuhide feels the silence that descends; this comfortable atmosphere of trust, friendship and loyalty that binds him to this Prince next to him. He would give his life for Zen, happily and time and time again. The wind is cool on his face, still carries the faint memory of winter but the scent of spring and life, as well. Together, they watch the sails of a merchant ship disappear behind the horizon, and the sinking sun drowns in the blood-red ocean. Zen turns around to leave and, in parting, slaps Mitsuhide on the back of his head.

Smiling, the knight casts one last glance over the city below, the ocean and the sky and follows his Lord back into the castle. The night air is cool and still warmer than just a few days ago.

It's not yet summer, but it soon will be.

* * *

_xix. Tower_

The winds were howling around the castle.

Kiki had lived in the capital all her life and she remembered harsh winters. But this winter seemed to want to become part of the chronicles of Clarines by being the coldest, most cruel winter ever. Luckily, inside the houses, it was warm. Looking outside, one could see the fires glowing in the fireplaces of the homes everywhere, from the noble's estates in the capital to the small farmer's houses in the country, and the castle was no difference.

"Poisonous roots, lethal dosis three microgram for an average male…" Shirayuki was moving her lips soundlessly, wrapped in a warm blanket on the sofa at the fire place. The fire's flames painted pictures onto her hair. Zen next to her was almost asleep, his head drooping over the final bit of paperwork for a treaty negotiation Kiki had handed him earlier that day. He was curled up on Shirayuki's side, their backs resting against each other. Kiki didn't have the heart to wake him up and force him to concentrate. The evening was old already and he deserved a break. Besides, seeing him so close to Shirayuki, she couldn't help the feeling of warmth rising in her heart. Sometimes she felt like a mother, watching her children. God, they were so precious to her.

Mitsuhide sat in the chair on the other side of the fire, a map on the table next to him, a parchment and quill on his lap. He glanced up and caught her eyes, and Kiki saw his eyes crinkle in a smile. The fire was illuminating half of his face, making his eyes black and his hair lighter. He was going over next week's scheduled journey to the estate of a minor Country Lord as well as arranging Zen's day tomorrow. Kiki knew he would manage it so the Second Prince had some free time to spar with the soldiers in the morning, and a short break in the afternoon that coincided with the lunch break of the apprentices of the Royal Pharmacy. In the flickering light, his features looked… softer, somehow, and yet sharper. His smile was small but familiar, and Kiki turned her head only when he dropped his gaze back to the papers in his lap.

"Are you still thinking of your next move?" Obi asked her from across the small table and the board of chess between them. "You have been staring at Mitsuhide quite a long time."

"I am right here," she answered and shifted a piece – her rook – along the board.

Obi frowned. "That doesn't seem like a move you would make."

Kiki leaned back. "Are you giving up?"

"No." Some time passed until Obi made his move.

Kiki moved a tower. "Check."

Obi frowned, then laughed. "Just as expected from you. Straightforward and without reserve. That's what I like about you, Kiki. And that's definitely a compliment."

"Save it," she said and toppled over his king. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Mitsuhide smile.

* * *

xx. Open Skies

Mitsuhide wakes up with a start, hand outstretched, a desperate sound on his lips, and _knows _he is too late. He is too late, he is useless, he has failed and Zen, _Zen-_

"Shh," a voice whispers and a hand brushes over his forehead. The ground underneath him is hard and uneven, earth and stones digging into his spine. "Everything's alright. Zen's fine."

Kiki is there, although she shouldn't be.

Fighting to scramble halfway upright Mitsuhide takes in the scenery: the hill with the lone tree, the ground that has been trampled by so many horses and men. It is early afternoon, both the sky and his inner clock agree, and with year-long training and finely-honed instinct he is able to not only say where he is but also why and what happened. Sighing, he drops back onto the ground, his head resting on cool earth, and grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't have come."

She completely ignores his question. He pictures her, his eyes closed: silver hair and grey eyes, fine features and slim shoulders. She's looking into the distance, over the expanse of green hills and golden fields that stretched out between their hilltop and the capital of Clarines hidden in the distance. "You should rest. You've been awake for almost two days. Don't worry, Zen's on his way back to the Castle. Obi's with him."

The _Why didn't you wake me_ dies on his lips. Instead, he can't help but smile despite the lingering despair the nightmare has caused, despite the feeling of having failed in his duty towards his Lord. He can't help thinking of the what-ifs, the all-too-close calls, the possible disasters. What would have happened if there had been an attack. What could have happened to Zen. Would Kiki be alright again. On days like those last three days, when everything is poised on the razor-sharp edge of a sword, hovers over the abyss in the lengthened suspense of the second before the final fall, his doubts return with the strength of a sledgehammer. _It is over_, Mitsuhide tells himself. _Everything is fine. _Slowly, slowly, the anxiety ebbs away, leaves him hollow and tired to the bone and suddenly even more conscious of the presence of the person next to him. She shouldn't be there, shouldn't have come, and yet there she is. And while she came because of Zen, of course, she also came because of him, and the thought warms him from the inside. Dropping his hands from his face, he looks at Kiki. She's sitting on the ground next to him, her legs crossed, her sword ready over her knees, and for a second Mitsuhide wonders whether she is protecting him or simply does not feel safe without her weapon in her hand. Then she turns her head a fraction, her storm-cloud eyes meet his, and everything else falls away. It is like he suddenly recognizes her, or, at least, sees her for the very first time after a long separation. The curve of her neck, the sun in her hair and the line of her cheek-bones. She is familiar to him and foreign in a way only a lover can be.

Kiki's eyes open wide when she reads his mind in that particular way of hers. A few years earlier, he would have blushed crimson. But he has grown, and she always was someone who took the initiative quickly. So she leans down to kiss him, her lips sweet, warm and so incredibly _soft_ on his. And Mitsuhide forgets everything else, strain, exhaustion, worry and doubt, closes his eyes and just holds on to the feeling of her lingering lips. Behind his closed lids, he can see Kiki's smile against the backdrop of the brilliant sky.

So incredibly, incredibly beautiful.

…

Mitsuhide wakes up with a start. His hand reaches out and a desperate sound escapes his lips and she knows he has been having a nightmare.

"Shh," Kiki whispers and brushes the back of her fingers over his forehead. It is still new, the touching, the knowledge that she is allowed to stretch out her hand any time she wants to. It is… exhilarating, and strangely terrifying. "Everything's alright. Zen's fine."

Fighting to scramble halfway upright he blinks, taking in the scene and drawing conclusions with the speed of a trained knight. The nobles and their knights have departed long ago and only a few soldiers and servants remain, clustering in groups around the last few tents, waiting for their rides back to the capital. The ground has been trampled by so many horses and men it is barely green any longer. The scent of grilled meat lingers in the air. It is early afternoon and Kiki feels the weakness in her limbs and a faint ache in her head. A week ago she had fallen violently ill, been too weak to even stand, but she had needed to come here today. Mitsuhide has covered for her for the past week, has worked almost without a pause. He looks exhausted, pale and wary and it hurts her to see him like this, but at least she sees him.

"It is fine to rest now and then." Kiki carefully models her voice so nothing of her concern can be heard in it. Refusing to look down at him, knowing he would read her heart in her eyes, she opts to look over the expanse of green hills and golden fields that stretched out between their hilltop and the capital instead. "You must have been tired. You've been awake for almost two days." Despite her resolve, her relief seems to manifest itself through unsaid words, dances in the air in front of them.

Mitsuhide sighs and swallows everything he probably had wanted to say, including his usually obligatory _Why didn't you wake me_. His hands fall away to reveal lines of laughter around his eyes, an exhausted frown and tiredness clear in his pale complexion. But he smiles, a twist of one side of his lips so much like him that she feels like crying. His gaze burns right into her. It is not like he suddenly recognizes her, or, at least, sees her for the very first time that day. He just looks at her with the mixture of affection, intimacy, and trust that defines their relationship. It is a lot like love and so much more, so much deeper, and it scares her to think about the impact he has on her, again and again. Because even now, tired and worn as he is, his gaze is enough to set something deep inside of her aflame and Kiki does not care if someone is still watching, if some servant will start to gossip as soon as he is back in the castle or some thing or other. She does not care for curious eyes or snickering whispers behind her back.

Mitsuhide closes his eyes when she kisses him. He tastes like ocean, like salt and eternity and Mitsuhide, and his one hand comes up to tangle in her hair carefully. It falls over his face like a curtain. She kisses him like it is the last time. And Kiki cannot think, cannot act, can only feel him warm and alive and _there_.

The blue skies above their heads are endless, and so are her feelings for Mitsuhide.

* * *

_A/N: Misc. Information._

_"I wish I could be born as his heart" - from Fruits Basket by Natsuki Takaya._

_"Afraid to love beyond what I could lose when it comes to you" - line from "Chances" by Five for Fighting. _

_"We still will be breathing the same air." Depending on the translation, "At least, you still will be alive" has been used. When Kiki finally tells Mitsuhide that she will only remain in the castle for another year due to a promise she made to her father, Mitsuhide refuses to talk to her. She confronts him, asking whether he will not meet her eyes for the rest of her year. When he asks what she would do if he actually did not look at her anymore, she says she would not mind since they still would be together (Mitsuhide would be alive). Somewhere around chapter 38, I guess. _

_Mitsuhide is a member of the Knights of Seleg (Oleg, depending on the version of the chapter). His last name has been translated both as Lowen and Louen/Rouen._

_When Mitsuhide and Kiki meet for the first (actually, the second) time Mitsuhide addresses Kiki as a male and offers to take her along to a public bath in chapter 42 (thinking she is a man). Zen calls him an "undisputable moron", or, depending on the translation, an "undeniable idiot". It's the attendant's arc. The first time they meet is on a official function, Kiki is wearing a dress and Mitsuhide is fleeing the masses and she does not give him her name. Later, Zen refuses to tell him who she is because he says she wants to do it herself. _

_Kiki belongs to the House of Seiran (Celan). She is the heiress to the title and all responsibilities and has been brought up accordingly. Apparently, she is very much like her mother regarding her way of speech, her face and her character. _

_Hisame Lugis is the second son of a noble family and determined to marry Kiki in order to become a member of the Seiran (Celan) House. In chapter 43 he challenges Kiki to a duel, stating that, in case she loses, she will have to consent to their marriage. When Mitsuhide interferes, he mocks him, calling him a commoner from a nameless castle. Kiki counteracts by telling Mitsuhide that Zen didn't care for his name, rank and heritage when he chose him. _

_"I was right to pick you five years ago." Zen says these words in Ch. 44, after Kiki and Mitsuhide return from her father whom she has asked for permission to remain by Zen's side until he has fulfilled his dream. Kiki actually answers that she was the one who had chosen them in the first place. That morning, she surprises everyone by having her hair cut, Mitsuhide tries to make Obi tell him whether the shinobi knows if Kiki has a lover or someone she likes, Obi makes fun of him and Zen is doing paperwork. _


End file.
